


Dhivara

by avani



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, MiM Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/pseuds/avani
Summary: Mahendra isn’t like everyone else, or so Grandmother always says. That much is obvious.





	Dhivara

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weaslayyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaslayyy/gifts).



Mahendra isn’t like everyone else, or so Grandmother always says. That much is obvious. 

The other boys remain weedy and awkward well into adolescence, and Mahendra grows taller and broader and puzzlingly stronger than the rest. The other boys are perfectly to spend their days discussing the best stratagems to ensure a heavy catch from the river, and Mahendra makes a face if he has to eat fish three evenings in a row. The other boys have a mother and a father to coo over them, and Mahendra only has his grandmother, who, despite her many excellent qualities, has never been one for cooing. 

The other boys dream of markets and what goods the traveling traders might bring with them, and Mahendra thinks only of what waits at the top of the waterfall. He doesn’t believe the village chief for a minute when she warns that there are demons up above; in fact, if anything, her words spur him onward, if only to prove her wrong. 

Except Grandmother, when he tells her about this and expects her to rail against the superstitions of the uneducated like she usually does, only hums in agreement with Sanga. “But indeed there are demons that live above the waterfall,” she says, more calmly than those dire words deserve, “and one day, you must kill them.”

“Me?” Mahendra might be taller and broader and puzzlingly stronger, but he certainly doesn’t feel qualified to kill anyone, least of all demons. 

“Who else?” Grandmother’s tone doesn’t allow for any uncertainty. Noticing the expression on his face, she amends: “Not yet, though. When you are older.”

So Mahendra turns his mind from how to get up the waterfall, and focuses instead of how best to deal with the demons he will find once he does. At first, he thinks he might shout at them, as Sanga does--everyone is afraid of Sanga, after all, surely even demons--and so he follows her around for months, to best learn from her example. This does not work out precisely as he anticipates, because he learns rather more about solving the problems of a small fishing village and less about scaring away one’s enemies: but Sanga and her husband adopt him as an unofficial son, providing him with all the sweets and little presents that Grandmother thinks unnecessary, which means Mahendra considers this a minor victory nonetheless. 

Next he wonders if he ought not to follow the village priest around, to see if he might offer some arcane chant or long-lost lore that might be of use. This experiment lasts of all three days, at the end of which Mahendra comes away convinced that the old man is a quack, and the priest decrees Mahendra a sacrilegious rascal bent on bringing disaster upon them all.  

“At least that means I can save money on  _ pujas _ to bless you,” says Grandmother wearily, which is honestly a better response than Mahendra could ever have expected. 

The other unexpectedly beneficial result of this encounter is that Grandmother finally notices his desperation to better himself and begins to teach him how to fight. Her lessons are not comprehensive-- Grandmother notes ruefully that her weapons of choice were always words, far more sharp and cutting than any sword-- but it is something to know the most reliable hold on a hilt, the proper balance of his feet when leaning forward to slit an opponent’s throat, the correct angle at which to aim a knife into an enemy’s bowels. 

Something, but not enough. His fingers itch for more, more ways to defend himself, more ways to destroy the demons that Grandmother assures him are his destiny.

Mahendra, when alone, amuses himself by bending a pliable piece of wood and string into a makeshift bow; twigs serve as his arrows. Even these missiles find their aim, and Mahendra lowers his new toy, incongruously proud of himself.

Grandmother, when she sees, catches her breath. “That’s your mother making herself known in you,” she says, and it is Mahendra’s turn to feel his throat going tight.

His father is well-known to him through Grandmother’s reminiscences; as long as Mahendra can remember, he has heard “Your father did this” and “Your father did that” sufficient times to imagine only another Mahendra, familiar and therefore mundane. His mother, though; his mother is a mystery. Mahendra treasures what little he knows of her: that she rivaled his father’s prowess in warfare, that her wisdom was greater than even Grandmother’s own, that she was utterly deserving of all the worship Mahendra bestows upon her.

And now he knows she had been fond of archery, too.

Even so little is enough to fuel his obsession. He prides himself on having some natural talent, a last gift from the woman who bore him; but the long hours of practice he puts in perfecting his skills are testament to the example of the woman who raised him. By the time he is fifteen, he can shoot down a single leaf from a tree while leaving the others unmarked. He thinks his mother would have been proud of him. He knows Grandmother is.

That is also the year that traders finally make their way down from the top of the waterfall. At so distinguished an age, Mahendra knows better than to believe in silly stories like those telling of monsters any more; still, he studies the men who come from a kingdom with the outlandish name of Mahishmati with misgiving. His fears are not assuaged when Grandmother invites them to take a meal in their house. Instead of joining his friends as he usually does, Mahendra remains behind that morning to make sure their guests behave themselves.

The traders are boorish and coarse, and at first Mahendra can’t see why Grandmother has called them to her. All they seem interested in doing is complaining about their King, who seems, if anything, even more unpleasant; and then the conversation shifts to mention a certain prisoner the King has in his grasp.

Grandmother stills. “The Princess Devasena lives?”

One of the traders spits derisively. “If  _ Princess _ is the correct title for her. These days Bhallaladeva labels her other things.” He grins maliciously. “But enough of her misery, old mother—you’ll have more than enough of your own if you don’t hand over those fine jewels that you wear.”

Mahendra steps forward with a snarl, but too late: calmly, Grandmother has already disposed of the fool who threatened her while his fellows, started to find such resistance from the crone they’d marked as an easy target, panic and flee.

Grandmother doesn’t seem to notice their escape; instead she stares ahead at something only she seems to see and repeats, wonderstruck: “Devasena lives.”

Worried, Mahendra kneels beside her. “Grandmother?”

Only then does she appear to notice his presence. She smiles, and all Mahendra can think as he studies her is that such an expression, so ferocious and triumphant, must be years in the making. It ought to frighten him. It does not. 

“It is time, Mahendra,” pronounces Sivagami, Queen Mother in exile and grandmother of Mahishmati’s next king, “for you to slay your demons at last.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Maya, this was _supposed_ to be the incredible AU where we get to explore how years of living as a commoner have changed Sivagami, and how adventures with Avantika are different when Mahendra has his grandmother along, but as always, I ran out of time, and instead you have only this prologue to read. I'm sorry! *weeps* But until I finally manage to write the rest of this universe, please have this tiny peek in that world (and of course it'll live forever in ten thousand messages that we never do anything with otherwise!)


End file.
